


the perfect distraction.

by sanctify (orphan_account)



Series: unfinished challenges [12]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Marichat May, Marichat May 2020, Rated T for swearing, Witch AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sanctify
Summary: youʼre the beginning and the end of every chapter.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: unfinished challenges [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774192
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	the perfect distraction.

“This thing is so humiliating to wear,” Chat Noir sighs, addressing the fact that he has to wear a… weird-looking cone around his neck. It itched and he wanted it off! But, if he tried to remove it, his witch might actually skin him alive.

“Youʼll have to deal with it, silly cat,” Marinette answered, rummaging through her cupboard for the curative element she needed to make the healing potion she was making more potent. It was worrying that her shape-shifting familiar couldnʼt even muster the strength to maintain a humanoid form when she knows that he quite enjoyed it. “How are you feeling, mon Chaton?”

“Do you want the honest answer or—”

“Of course I want the honest answer, you damned feline,” she huffed, pausing her search to glare at him. “No beating around the bush, tell it to me straight.”

“Okay, well. I feel less like Iʼm about to die, but I still feel like shit. Not yesterdayʼs painfully flaming shit, just… regular pure shit.”

“You need more work on your metaphors,” she says in disgust.

“Eh, Iʼm all for puns, donʼt really care for metaphors,” he paused before smiling a familiar cheshire grin, “Or you know—”

“One more mention of shit from that mouth of yours and I will clean it with soap.”

“Yes, my dear Mistress.”

Marinette shook her head, resuming the search for that curative element. Where is that thrice-damned ingredient anyway? She doesnʼt recall ever having to use it so where…?

She stops when she hears Chat Noir swear under his breath.

“Chat Noir?” She turns to her familiar, “Is the pain getting worse—”

She freezes and stares as Chat Noir tries to find the perfect position to relax and lie down, but he canʼt. The cone around his neck makes it hard to move, and the more he tries to maneuver himself around, the louder and more frequent his muttered curses are.

“Goddamned fucking stupid—” His curses are cut off when he hears his witch laughing.

He knows it's at his expense and he doesnʼt hide that heʼs upset at that, “Yeah, yeah, purrincesse. Laugh it up, giggles.”

“You need some help down there, M. Chaton?” she teased, opening another drawer and exclaiming in delight when she finds the last ingredient she needs.

“Oh, har har har. When I get better, Iʼm going to tease you and make your life a living Hell, shortstack. Just you wait.”

“Hmmm, if youʼre planning on doing that, maybe I wonʼt heal you after all,” she says, humming in thought.

“Oh, please no,” he begs monotonously.

They both knew Marinette would rather die than ever consciously bring harm to her most trusted familiar. Itʼs why she even received the indomitable trust of Chat Noir. He lives for her, she lives for him. Thatʼs just the way it was for them.

“Anyways, since I found this,” she holds up the ornate box, “I can finally start working on your cure. Then you can be an annoying cat boy again.”

“Oh, thank Bahamut.”

“What about thanking me too, you ungrateful cretin.”

“Oh, sweet merciful Marinette. My witch, my life,” the stupid cat begins, “I am humbled by your desire to assist me in regaining my form. I know you have missed gazing into mine eyes, I am, after all, quite the sight to behold.”

“Ugh, gods help me.”

Just for that, she wasnʼt going to give him the cure immediately. Let him suffer a few more hours with the silly cone of shame on.


End file.
